


Department of Magical Creatures Case #625369

by rons_pigwidgeon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Veela Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/rons_pigwidgeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written between 2005 and 2011. ~~I am currently editing each chapter as I post it (and omg does it need it).~~ If you read this story when it was originally posted on FF.net, you may have noticed that I stopped editing and re-posting chapters for this story here around the time Ron enters the story. This was deliberate. Ron's existence in Egypt and all of his interactions are something that 20-year-old me in 2004 had no problem with, but 32-year-old me in 2017 has a MAJOR issue with. I see no way of rectifying the story so that it is not offensive on about 10 different levels, and am no longer invested enough in this story to try. So, I will not be posting the rest of the chapters here. If you would like to read the rest of this story, you will unfortunately have to read it on FF.net. You can find it [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2434900/1/Department-of-Magical-Creatures-Case-62637).

Chapter 1  
  
Draco Malfoy sat in an uncomfortable chair facing an unoccupied desk, tapping his fingers on his knee impatiently. He had chosen silk robes of a pale blue and his hair was pulled back with an intricate silver clasp. The fabric felt good against his fingers, but that did not deter his displeasure; he had been waiting for a total of two minutes and twenty-eight seconds and was beginning to feel offended. Malfoys are not kept waiting unless under dire circumstances. MacMillan had better be bleeding internally.

Finally the short, blond man came into sight, looking a tad bit flustered and annoyed. "Sorry, Malfoy.

Had a meeting with the Department Head. Haven’t kept you waiting long, I hope?"

Draco only sniffed indignantly and began to examine his nails. MacMillan sat down and surveyed him.

"Right. Down to business, I suppose. Now that you’ve come into your veela maturity, I assume that you will be looking for your mate, unless you’ve already found him or her?"

"Him, and no, I have not."

"Right, then I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork. As my department controls the breeding of magical creatures, we’ll need to have a file on you."

"Why? I can’t exactly breed, can I? I’m gay."

"No, we’re fairly certain that you cannot, but we would rather not take the risk. I need you to fill out these forms, and we’ll need a picture." He handed Draco several parchments, all longer than Draco thought they had any right to be, as well as a quill and an ink bottle. He then pulled out some parchments of his own and proceeded to ignore Draco completely. Draco bristled, but went about filling out the parchments anyway, flashing Macmillan a glare for good measure.

"’Have you ever used magic other than veela attraction in order to enhance a sexual experience? If so, what sort did you use and what was the result?’ How exactly is that any of the Ministry’s bloody business?"

Macmillan didn’t even look fazed as he glanced up. "What if one of those spells went wrong and created an otherwise impossible pregnancy? We would need documentation."

"Well, I’ll let you know if it does. In the meantime, that question will remain blank." He returned to the parchment only to pause at Macmillan’s voice.

"I’m afraid it can’t. Ministry regulation says all paperwork must be filled out in full."

"And if I don’t give a damn about the Ministry, and its bloody paperwork? I’m only indulging you because you’re cute, you know. I could walk out right now."

"You do and the Ministry has no choice, but to strip you of citizenship, educational honors, etc. and send you on the next Portkey out of England."

Draco started, nearly jumping from his chair. "What?! Don’t be ridiculous! I’m a Pureblood and a Malfoy. I doubt the Ministry will forget the generous donations my family has provided for generations, and continues to contribute to this day. It would be a shame if those funds inexplicably stopped, wouldn’t it?"

MacMillan held in his sigh of frustration. This was not going to be an easy case. But then again, Draco Malfoy never made anything easy. "Mr. Malfoy, you are registered, or will be, as a half-magical creature. Prestigious as your family name may or may not be, you still have to fill out the paperwork. Both of your parents did. And do not flaunt your name. I’d like you to keep in mind that my family has significant influence in the Ministry as well. And more so considering your father’s affiliations."

Draco stiffened considerably, his glare hardening in a faint imitation of his father’s. "I would be much obliged if you refrain from mentioning my father, thank you."

"Gladly. Please fill the forms out completely." Macmillan ignored the sneer and long string of furious curses and went back to his work. Draco continued to sneer at his bowed head for a long moment before turning back to the parchment and writing a very clear NO before moving on. Ten minutes passed in quiet, defined by a far-off argument and scratches of quills.

The quiet was breached once more by the loud slamming of papers onto the desk. Draco was glaring once more. "How is my most frequently used sexual position even remotely relevant to this inquiry?"

"Same reason as the other question."

Vicious anger was obvious in Draco’s deadly glance, but then something in his eyes flickered and he visibly relaxed. MacMillan was pleased to have him calming down. A coy smile replaced the death stare on Draco’s face. Macmillan shivered, whether in wary fear or something else he was uncertain.

"Are you sure it would be sufficient to merely describe my favorite position?"

Things became a bit warm and hazy in Ernie’s head. "I’m not sure I understand your meaning."

Draco leaned over in his chair, and his voice dipped to a low purr. "Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to have… a visual aide instead? Perhaps a demonstration might help?”

"A demonstration?" MacMillan’s thoughts were becoming thick, and it was increasingly difficult to keep a comprehensive grip on them, like trying to fly a rain-slicked broomstick in a thunderstorm. The room temperature had somehow risen about two degrees and he nervously loosened his tie to relieve some of the tension.

"Mmm, a nice, long, hot demonstration." Draco leaned over the desk and started rubbing small circles into the pulse point on Ernie’s wrist with his thumb. "We could go to the bathroom… find a stall… and you could fuck me into the wall so hard I forget my own name. How about it, Ernie?"

MacMillan let out a low groan at the intonation put on his name, and his eyelids fluttered shut briefly. "Did I tell you I’ve invented a new Cleansweep? It’s faster than the Firebolt."

"Really? That sounds fascinating. Why don’t you tell me all about it on the way to the bathroom?" Draco stood, followed closely by a goofily grinning Macmillan and turned down the hall to find the nearest restroom. Ernie was telling him about his ‘new broom’, but Draco stopped listening a few words in. Soon he had shuffled them into an empty bathroom, locked the door behind them with a lazy flick of his wrist, and proceeded to introduce his tongue to MacMillan’s. He was pleased to find himself pressed against the door and quickly divested of his clothing, taking no time at all to reciprocate.

Forty-five minutes later, Draco was back to filling out forms, skipping over several questions at a time and looking immensely pleased with himself for having got his way. He looked up and flashed a rather ruffled-looking Macmillan a charming grin as he sat down, decidedly ignoring the scowl on the other man’s face. "See how easy that was to resolve? Maybe now you’ll think twice before asking me to answer rude and improper questions about my private life."

MacMillan glared. "Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you would never exploit your sexual powers against me again. That was completely uncalled for and extremely inappropriate. Persuading me to do your lascivious bidding in the men’s room is not the proper way to achieve your goal, and you are still under obligation to answer every question, so I suggest you cease leaving questions blank if you’d like to remain a citizen of this country."

The self-satisfied smirk left Draco’s face immediately, and he let out an indignant huff before returning to the forms. An hour later, Draco set the quill and ink down and fixed his glare on Macmillan, hoping to kill him with his stare alone. It took exactly one minute before the pressure got to MacMillan, who swallowed before looking up. "Finished?"

"Yes, is there anything else you’d like to bore me with? I have other, more pressing matters to attend to this afternoon."

"Just some guidelines I’d like to remind you of and a few formalities we need to go over. You understand that, as a registered magical creature, you are to report to me once every few weeks so that I can monitor your progress, correct?"

Draco straightened upon hearing this. "Every few weeks? Whatever for?"

"So that I can monitor your breeding, make sure you don’t suddenly find a nice veela girl and make veela babies without my knowledge."

"Won’t happen. I find women repulsive in sexual situations."

"Either way, it’s still regulation. All you need to do is fill out this form every two to three weeks and owl it to me. The folder has a replenishing spell on it, so you can’t say you ran out of forms. I want you to fill them out in full, and don’t leave anyone out, alright, Malfoy? I don’t necessarily need explicit details, but I want the ages, names, and such filled out, understand?" He passed a manila folder to Draco with a parchment attached to the front showing the form format. Draco skimmed the contents and then sneered at Ernie.

"You expect me to give you a description of my sexual activities every few weeks? Isn’t that some form of severe personal privacy invasion?"

"Not when you’re a magical creature looking for a mate. We have a legal right, and some feel obligation, to know what you are up to. Especially when your extended powers are singularly sexual in nature. I’m not even going to bring up the fact that you seem to lack any scruples in using your sexual prowess to further your personal goals." He received a sniff and a flippant head toss in response.

"And what of the gentlemen I am with? Do they not have any rights in this? Or does sleeping with an animal overrule one’s rights?”

Sighing, MacMillan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You aren’t an animal, Malfoy. Sleeping with you doesn’t necessarily overrule their rights, but this is for their protection as well as yours. If something were to happen to get one of them pregnant, we would need to know who they are in order to assist them in receiving proper medical treatment. In light of that, this situation calls for an… alteration of their rights.”

"And that includes you, doesn’t it?"

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"I will have to include the incident in the men’s room in my report, correct?"

"Yes, you will.”

"And you will not get in trouble for fraternizing with one of your creatures? I assume the Head of Department will at the very least skim through my reports?"

"Yes, he will, and I have no idea whether or not I will be penalized. I was under your influence, though, so I doubt any punishment will be significant"

A thin, pale brow went up. "All right, as I am apparently at the Ministry’s will, I’ll do as ordered. Is there anything else, Macmillan?"

"Yes. As I assume you already know, you are not to touch anyone mated to another creature."

"I would never stoop to such a dishonor."

"Right, no other creatures, either. No werewolves or vampires or dwarves or whatever other kind of creature not veela or wizard that you might find yourself enamored with."

"And if my mate is bitten by a werewolf or a vampire before I find him?"

"Then, he is not your mate. Your body does not necessarily pick one person at birth and simply start searching for that person when you come of age. It uses the process of elimination while you are growing up to determine which scents do not correspond with qualities that will fit with you until you finally come across the one that fits the qualities that will perfectly meld with yours. Does that make any sense at all?"

"No, not at all."

Macmillan sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his thumb and forefinger absently. "Okay, you know that you find your mate by scent, correct? Well, the way that happens is through the process of elimination. Each person has a scent specific to them and certain parts of that scent correspond with certain aspects of that individual’s personality. Your body can decipher these scents and recognizes which will go best with yours. Clear so far?" There was a slight nod. "Right, so your body already knows which parts of a scent are necessary for someone to match you perfectly. The thing is it cannot automatically put all those parts together into one scent. Instead, it goes from person to person, dismissing everyone it recognizes as not having the correct combination until it finally stumbles upon the person that does, and that person is your mate. Understand now?"

"Yes, you’ve made it clear. So my body will recognize that a werewolf or a vampire is not a proper mate because they possess the incorrect scent automatically?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that explains the whole no mating with other creatures bit, but what if I just want to mess about with one of them? Let’s say I wanted to shag Remus Lupin silly. Are you telling me that the Ministry prohibits me from doing so?"

"Professor Lupin! Malfoy! What on Earth would ever possess you to want to sleep with Professor Lupin?" Ernie’s nose scrunched up and his forehead was reduced to a series of wrinkles.

"It was an example. Lupin happens to be the only non-veela magical creature whom I know."

"Right. From a legal standpoint, yes. If something were to happen and you were to produce a child—however unlikely the occurrence may be—you would have a quarter-veela werewolf on your hands and interbreeding is illegal." Draco remained silent, his attention shifting to his nails. "I’m assuming it’s safe to move on. When you do find your mate, I expect to be notified within five days. The bond is not to be created without the Ministry’s immediate awareness."

"The sexual bond or the blood?"

"Both."

"And if we’re in the throes of passion and can’t get near a fireplace or a quill for days?"

"Let’s hope the ‘throes’ don’t last for five days because you’ll be penalized."

Draco’s nostrils flared in annoyance, but he otherwise looked calm, perhaps even slightly defeated. "Why? What does it matter? Why can’t I just write it in this little report I have to keep sending you?"

"Because there is paperwork to be filled out and he’ll need to come in to be registered as your mate."

"Why?"

"For legal purposes. If you assault someone in defense of your mate and they press charges, there is nothing the Ministry will be able to do to protect you if your mate has not been registered.”

"Protect me? Explain."

"As it is your nature and unavoidable, you have a legal right to protect your mate at all costs. If an event should arise where you will need to exercise that right, we cannot defend you in court if there are no records of your mate."

"So, let’s say my mate is Zabini and you threaten him. Then, I could hurt you in retaliation?"

"As long as the threat was physical or mental in regards to your bond and the retaliation was done in defense."

"What do you mean by ‘mental in regards to your bond’?"

"If I were to try to convince your mate to go against you, or to leave you, you would have a legal right to retaliate against me."

"And could that retaliation be physical?"

"Are you asking if you could maim me to get me to leave your mate alone?"

"Yes."

"Yes, but that would only be in the extreme case that you’ve asked me persistently to leave him alone, and I have not. You’re going to find, and more so in the beginning than later on, that you become extremely protective of your mate and easily jealous. It is not a reflection on your person, so don’t start that snit I can see you’re already thinking about. It is natural for veelas to be… how do I put this… clingy when they first discover their mates. And anyone who tries to come between a veela and his or her mate usually discovers themselves at the business end of the veela’s wand fairly quickly."

"Why would I care if some imbecile decides to try and steal my mate? Anyone with sense would never consider leaving me, and I couldn’t be with someone who hadn’t any sense."

"You’re not going to feel that way when you’ve found him. You’ll be wary of anything that separates you from him for more than a few minutes, be it owl post or his mother. You’ll probably want to have a lot of physical contact. Not necessarily sexual—although that is a large part of it. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing, that sort of thing. It may not be part of your normal behavior, and with you I severely doubt that it is, but don’t worry. It is a natural part of forming a bond and the need will relax with time, although it will never entirely go away."

"So, I’m going to act like a bloody woman for a little while?"

"You can put it that way, yes."

A look of exhaustion flashed across Draco’s face, before the bored look returned. "Is there anything else? I don’t particularly fancy spending my entire day at the bloody Ministry of Magic listening to a pompous Hufflepuff telling me what to do."

MacMillan pretended not to hear the jibe as he shuffled a few papers around to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. "That seems to be it. Are there any other questions?" He received a glare in return. "Right then, that’s it. I expect your first report in the next two weeks."

Draco stood, taking the folder containing the forms with him, and sneered at MacMillan in farewell before sweeping out the door, intending to Apparate home and rant to his mother. As soon as he was out of site, Ernie sat back and took a deep, relaxing breath. He could not believe that he was stuck with handling Draco bloody Malfoy. This Ministry job looked less and less promising by the minute. Tea, a spot of tea was what he needed, to calm his nerves after such an encounter and forget all about the headache that was Draco Malfoy.

-

Robert Foster was a senior member of the department. He was, in fact, the oldest member of the group besides the Department Head, a man who made Albus Dumbledore look like a teenager. His influence with the higher-ups was used to help Ernie along in his blossoming career. As soon as Ernie took over the desk next to him, Robert had taken him under his wing, and Ernie was grateful for it. He was sure he would have been fired within the first week if it had not been for Robert’s helpful hints and advice. They got along wonderfully, both having a penchant for hard work, and a thirst for further knowledge about nearly everything. The only problem was that Robert had a tendency towards the amused in situations Ernie classified as ‘dire’ or ‘outrageous’ or ‘things which could get me fired’, and he was never quite certain if the man was serious in his advice or merely taking the mickey.

It was this way the morning after Ernie’s first ‘encounter’ with Draco Malfoy; Robert sat at his desk, smirking, the light in his eyes twinkling, putting all sorts of unease into the pit of Ernie’s stomach. It took a few minutes of nervous shuffling through paperwork before the deep baritone cut through the air, riddled with amusement. "How was your interview yesterday with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Horrendous. I thought Malfoy was bad when we were in school. This whole veela thing... I shudder to think what’ll happen when he finds his mate."

"And did you get to experience that veela power yourself..?" The smirk widened.

Ernie paused in his paper-clipping to blink doe-like at him. "Sorry?"

"You know, they don’t tell you this in training, but a veela’s signature stays with their partner for days afterwards. There’s a really simple charm you can use to find it on anyone. Mr. Malfoy’s is all over you.”

Ernie rolled his eyes. "The bloody wanker used his magic to try to get me to relax on his registration. He thought if he seduced me, I’d let him slack on some of the more personal questions. I couldn’t help it. Am I going to get in trouble?" The utter indignation that the ‘incident’ had caused him was wiped clean by sheer terror for the termination of his job. Putting aside whatever nonchalance he had used with Malfoy, the idea of possible termination had kept him up half the night. Robert was still smirking, though, so that was a good sign.

"No, although the whole department will hear of it and quite probably mock you for weeks. There was a reason that we assigned you to Mr. Malfoy, besides your previous association. All registering veelas do the same thing he did. Think of it as... an initiation, of sorts. A welcome."

Ernie just stared at him blankly for several minutes. "Are you telling me that this was planned? I was set up for seduction via Draco Malfoy by the entire department?"

"Yes." He was so matter-of-fact in his answer that it left Ernie without a response. He was still until Robert flashed him a grin and turned back to his work. Blinking a few times and shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, Ernie acquired a small frown and began to prepare himself for his next case.

-

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 01/31/01

**Age:** 21

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 3

**Name(s) of Partner(s) (Number of Encounters):** Ernie Macmillan (1), Thomas Bownal (2)

**Age(s)/Sex(es)of Partner(s):** 21M, 25M

**Species of Partner(s):** both were wizards

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Macmillan’s pathetic excuse for a fuck was up against the wall of the toilets down the hall from his office. Only lasted a few minutes and was probably the worst I’ve ever had (I do not have bad sexual encounters). Thomas was slow, but enthusiastic, and he spent all of his time pleasuring me without a thought for himself. He did this fantastic little move with his tongue across my head that just wow. In general, he was a fantastic shag, but sadly, definitely not my mate.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its effects:** Thomas used a tickling charm that nearly drove me up the wall.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:** No

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes, of course. But I don’t specifically see how that could be any of your business. I was told to use my persuasive abilities in any manner that suits me best and that is exactly what I intend to do.

**Comments:** This is useless and obnoxious. My lawyers will find a way out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had been shooting furtive glances at the gentleman in the corner for half an hour, nearly putting Hermione off her lunch with the knowledge that he was not actively listening. She had asked what his interest in the man was several times only to be told not to concern herself in the cryptic, spastically guarded manner that her friend only reserved for Voldemort and Auror work. Twirling the little plastic straw in her drink, she wondered idly why Harry was pursuing a case in Muggle London and also why he'd essentially invited her on the reconnaissance with him. Sighing, she pulled out the only subject she knew would grab his attention. "Do you think I should marry Nigel?"  
  
His neck snapped around so fast she was surprised he hadn't broken it. "What? Why? Did he ask?"  
  
She suppressed the self-satisfied smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "No, not yet, but he will. We've been together over two years; we've talked about it. He's just got the practice on its feet. It's really only a matter of time. Do you think I should?"  
  
"I don't know. Do you want to? Do you love him?"  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"What about Ron?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, what about him?"  
  
"Shouldn't you discuss it with him? He did kind of have first dibs on the marriage thing."  
  
"That became null and void as soon as he stepped out of the closet. Besides, he lives in Egypt with Bill and Fleur and that... man Forten."  
  
"Forten? Is that his name? Ron won't let me meet him."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "He will. You're just always conveniently out of the country when they come 'round."  
  
With the reminder of his work, Harry's eyes wandered back to the corner dweller. A second man had joined him. The two huddled close and began speaking in low voices. She lost his attention for a few more minutes. "What's the guy like? Is he nice?"  
  
"He's not horrible. I don't know if he's really for Ron, though. He's a little… outlandish. He's more of a girl than I am. I didn't think Ron was into feminine partners…"  
  
"He must like the guy, though, right?"  
  
"Maybe he thinks he has to be with a girly type. This is his first relationship with another guy, isn't it? Maybe he's still a little unsure on his feet."  
  
"It's been six months," Harry said, giving her a skeptical look.  
  
"What is your point?"  
  
"You'd think he'd have figured it out by now, don't you? If it wasn't what he wanted."  
  
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, unused to having her ideas questioned, especially by Harry. "I don't know, maybe he feels obligated to stay. Look what happened with Lavender. He’s not exactly good at breaking up. You know, I sometimes wonder if I hadn’t said anything about his obsession with Galvin Gudgeon‘s arse, if we’d still be together now."  
  
Harry only shrugged noncommittally and turned to watch the original man stand, passing the newcomer a sealed parchment before ducking out of the restaurant. Harry watched him the entire way, seeming to forget Hermione's existence or the conversation they'd previously been having. Already miffed, Hermione's impatience crept to an unbearable height and she turned on him.  
  
"I cannot believe you. You've invited me on a bloody reconnaissance mission, haven't you? I'm sure that's against Auror rules. You could get fired! And you won't even have a proper conversation with me. You keep glancing over in that corner and muttering when I'm trying to make the best out of the rare time I actually get to see you! Do you do this to Ron, too? Is that why he stays hidden away in damnable Egypt with barely an owl every few weeks? No, that can't be it. Ron would like this with what he does in Egypt, but I don't. I followed you half-way across the country and back to kill Voldemort, and I'm through with all this danger rubbish. You can Floo me when you're ready to invite me out properly." She began to stand up, but suddenly found herself literally glued to her seat, and Harry looking frantic and possibly near drowning on his own words.  
  
"I'm sorry! Calm down! I don't even know what you're on about. This isn't a recon mission."  
  
"Don't try to deny it. You were staring at that bloke in the corner all afternoon."  
  
"Maybe I thought he was fit."  
  
"Yeah, maybe if you were _gay_ , you idiot. And even if you were, don't think I don't know you and Ron would be shacked up somewhere shagging like bunnies." She was pleased to have caused the look of horror that spread across his face. "But, since neither is the case, stop lying. And don't invite me on field work again, or I'll hex all your pants into knickers and you won't be able to switch them back."  
  
Momentarily defeated by the sheer determination in Hermione's countenance, Harry sighed and tugged at the back of his hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. I just… I haven't seen you in a while, and I couldn't think of any other way to meet with you. It wasn't dangerous. They're just dealing in magic carpets anyway, nothing as serious as mad Dark Lords or Lucius Malfoy. Do you completely hate me?"  
  
"Yes. But if you absolutely swear to be in London on the Twenty-Eighth, I may reconsider transfiguring your pants."  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Conversation resumed at a more usual pace, although tension hung between them for the rest of their meeting. She did not bring her possible nuptials up again for fear that Harry might take her seriously. The memory of Luna’s wedding was still fresh in her mind. She'd married Rolf Scamander, a fellow naturalist five years her senior who'd taken one look at Harry, Ron, and Neville all lined up with menacing glares and nearly backed out of the whole thing.  
  
Upon arriving home several hours later to find the flat empty, she sat on the sofa for an hour in thought before deciding an International call was necessary. She knew that Ron's work schedule was unpredictable at best, but she decided to make an attempt. If he wasn't home, she could leave a message with the fluffy thing he called a boyfriend. She dug behind the chest of knitting next to the fireplace and found her International Floo Powder and crawled on her knees over to the open fire. After calling "Sandstorm Flat, Egypt”, she stuck her head in the flames and found herself looking at Ron Weasley's sofa. Forten, usually lounging on said sofa, was nowhere to be seen, but she could glimpse Ron huddled over the kitchen table with two large stacks of books in front of him. She nearly forgot what she was meant to be doing with the shock of seeing him voluntarily researching.  
  
When several minutes went by without his noticing her, she cleared her throat. He nearly jumped out of his own skin. "Hermione! You scared me! What are you doing?"  
  
"I need to talk to you." Understanding her tone, he shut the book he'd been looking at and went over to sit on the hearth rug. "Have you spoken to Harry recently?"  
  
"I only get international calls from you and Mum. He owled a week ago, but it was all flowers, no truth. I think he's getting paranoid about his post. Why?"  
  
"Will you owl him and ask him to take a few days off to stay with you?"  
  
"Sure, but why?"  
  
"I think he's lonely, but he doesn't want to say anything. He asked me to lunch today, but it was more of a reconnaissance than lunch. He actually invited me to a stake out with him and didn't even tell me! What if the men had been dangerous? I could have been in a scuffle!" She ignored the smirk that instantly came onto Ron's face at the suggestion.  
  
"Exactly which part is the problem? The fact that Harry brought you on a mission, or that he didn't tell you about it beforehand?"  
  
"Both are equally vexing."  
  
"All right, well I can see why you've got your knickers in a bunch about the whole not telling you bit, but what's the matter with him inviting you on a mission? We've gone with him loads of times during school. Why not now, too, now that we can actually defend ourselves?"  
  
"It's the principle of it, Ron. He's an Auror. He shouldn't be doing things like that, and he knows it. He could get himself fired."  
  
"Why would he risk that? He loves being an Auror."  
  
"I don't know, maybe he's tired of fighting all the time. I certainly would be."  
  
"Harry's existence is fighting evil. There's no way he wouldn't want to." He seemed firm on this point, assuring her that any argument would be ignored.  
  
"Whatever, Ron. Just invite him for a mini-break, please? He can meet Forten, if nothing else."  
  
"I'll owl him, but I'm not promising anything." They lapsed into silence, punctuated by the ticking of the clock, before Ron perked up as if having a sudden thought. "Oi, what's this about Forten being a woman? Fleur's on some sort of mission to get me to bin him and told me you fully supported her because you think he's more of a woman than you are. There's nothing wrong with him."  
  
"Of course not, he's just a bit… effeminate in his mannerisms. Almost like Parvarti and Lavender used to be."  
  
"Excuse me, but Forten enjoys Divination class about as much as you do, and I thought we agreed never to mention the 'L' word."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "All right, I'm sorry I said anything. I don't know where she would even get such a notion. I haven't spoken to her since Yule and that was only to wish her a Happy Christmas."  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe you should owl and set her straight. She wants to set me up with some French professor she’s related to, and she won't take 'no' for an answer."  
  
"Why don't you?"  
  
His expression turned part incredulous and part exasperated. "Because I'm in a relationship!"  
  
"With a man who isn't right for you at all. Forten isn't going anywhere in his life; he's just crashing at your flat and working at random Muggle bars. You've a career that seems to be going somewhere. You're a war hero, and you're best friends with the most famous wizard since Voldemort. You don't need to be seeing an unambitious man whose only aspiration is to be your kept boy. Maybe this Frenchman will be more… settled and serious."  
  
The incredulity turned to anger and he stood, causing Hermione to have to crane her neck to see his face. "I think it's best you stay out of my love life." With that she found herself cut off, staring into her own flames and completely flabbergasted.  
  
"What…"  
  
"Something wrong, dear?" came Nigel's voice from somewhere near the kitchen. She hadn't heard him come home, but looking around, she could see him bent between the open lower cupboard doors. She stood and smoothed the dust from her hair, making her way to the kitchen.  
  
"Ron just… hung up on me. I didn't even know you could hang up on Floo calls…"  
  
Nigel straightened and turned to look at her, a box of noodles in one hand and a perplexed look on his face, "Ron? Why would he do that? Did you say something about Forten again?"  
  
"I only told him that he should consider someone who was more stable. It wasn't necessary for him to get angry…"  
  
Her boyfriend smiled, knowing that whatever she'd said, it hadn't been as simple as considering a more stable lover. "I'm sure it'll work itself out. I'm making spaghetti, that all right?"  
  
"That's perfectly fine. Let me wash up and I'll help you." She stood and walked over to peck him on the lips before heading towards the bathroom. The sound of his humming could be heard until she turned the shower on and stepped under the hot spray.  
  
-  
 **  
Form:** 83352739   
 **  
Name:** Draco Malfoy  
 **  
Registry Number:** 625369  
 **  
Date:** 06 sep 2001  
 **  
Age:** 22  
 **  
Mate:** N/A  
 **  
Current Location:** London, England  
 **  
Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 12  
 **  
Name(s) of Partner(s) (Number of Partners):** Franklin Norkelter (1), Louis Vendelezo (8), Mark Foster (3)  
 **  
Age(s)/Sex(es)of Partner(s):** 23M, 39M, 34M  
 **  
Species of Partner(s):** Wizard, Wizard, Muggle (don't even say it)  
 **  
Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Franklin was inexperienced, and I had to top, which I hate. Louis was built like a Greek god and was so fantastic in bed that we didn't leave it for three days. I'm rather sad that he's not my mate, the sex alone would be worth his annoying prattle about house-elf rights. Mark was strong, and he pulled me into the most peculiar poses, but he knew exactly where to hit to make me melt for him.  
 **  
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes, with Louis.  
  
 **If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its effects:** Louis used a binding spell to trap my hands against the bedposts. It's incredibly erotic not to be able to touch your partner.  
 **  
Did any encounter result in pregnancy:** I'm no longer going to bother, the answer will always be no.  
 **  
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** As usual, yes  
  
If so, how and why: I took my mother to the opera and the gentleman sitting next to her smelled atrocious so I used a bit of persuasion to get him to leave. Nothing wrong with that, is there?  
  
 **Comments:** You're very lucky I'm not my father. Mother tells me his ministry worker ended up dead. Just thought I'd keep you informed of that.  
  
\-   
  
Draco sipped at his drink, tucked away in a secluded corner suited for people-watching. He hadn’t shared his bed in two days, and he was beginning to itch with the need for satisfaction. He tried to ignore the section of his brain that told him he would never be satisfied without his mate and went about looking at the other customers. Three caught his eyes. There was a young aristocrat sitting at the bar in black leather pants and a fitted leather jacket with wispy black hair that floated over his neck as he turned his head. Obviously Muggleborn. The thought made him turn his head, his nose wrinkling. A middle-aged man sitting in the corner across from his in business robes was reading a long parchment, completely oblivious to the rest of the room. And then there was the gentleman who just walked in the door. Tall, regal, with pure white hair lightly tousled, he was a stunning display of maturity, what Draco imagined his father might have looked like with short hair and a pulse. An attendant hurried to his side to take his jacket and inquire after his health. The gentleman answered in a murmur as his attention strayed across the room, surveying its occupants. His eyes fell on Draco, who gave him a quick glance over and a coy smile.  
  
The look was as good as an invitation, and the gentleman headed over. Draco stood to meet him, extending his hand in greeting. “Leopold Mesden III at your service.” The man leaned down to kiss the proffered hand, making the blond smile in appreciation.  
  
“Draco Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
A flash of pure delight passed across the aristocrat’s face as they sat, and he leaned in to speak with more intimacy. “Draco Malfoy? Really? You wouldn’t happen to be the son of Lucius Malfoy, would you?”  
  
Draco turned his eyes to his drink and tried to hide his discomfort at the mention of his father. “Yes, Lucius was my father. Did you know him?”  
  
“I played billiards with him on several occasions. He was a lovely man.”  
  
“I can honestly say that I have never heard my father referred to as ‘lovely’ by anyone other than my mother, who is hopelessly devoted to him and his memory. My father was a ruthless, cruel man and there’s no need to brighten his memory for the sake of politeness.”  
  
A glint of something unrecognizable passed over Mesden’s eyes as he surveyed his companion. “You did not like your father?”  
  
“I did not dislike him, I disagreed with him. Malfoys are neutral in political matters; it is how we remain in such high standing with the Ministry. He should not have made an alliance with either side and especially not with the side destined to lose. It will take me quite some time to regain a prominent position for my family.”  
  
“Well, I truly thought him lovely, regardless of his political views. He was stunning, as are you.”  
  
It was then that Draco’s annoyance faded away into understanding of what the man was fumbling to say. “Thank you. That is very kind of you to say.”  
  
“Only the truth. You glow.”  
  
A sly smile crept onto his lips as he lifted his glass for a sip. “I’m beginning to like you, all these compliments. You threaten to over-exert my ego.”  
  
“With due right. How is it that I’ve missed such a beauty? Surely you’ve not been here before.”  
  
“I have, but not often. I don’t tend to stay in one place for long.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
Draco paused to survey the aristocrat, not sure he wanted to explain his veela tendencies. If they were mated, then he’d be more than happy to inform him, but as the state of their relationship was still unknown, he thought it best to leave him in the dark. “You’ll never meet anyone new if you remain in the same place, will you?”  
  
“I suppose not. That is an excellent philosophy.” He raised his glass to it and they slipped into a comfortable silence until Draco became bored with watching the other patrons.  
  
“If you associated with my father, I can only assume that you are well off. What is your business?”  
  
“I own nearly every building in Mayfair and rent them out to various businesses.”  
  
“Mayfair? Really? You must have been friendly with Him, then. It wasn’t even touched.”  
  
Leopold smirked and took a sip of his drink. “I knew your father, didn’t I?”  
  
“I suppose.”  
  
“You know, you do look a great deal like him.”  
  
Draco looked away, distracted and trying his best not to be irritated at the repeated mention of his likeness to his parent. “I’d prefer to leave the subject of my father alone, please.”  
  
Leopold nodded in acknowledgment and the subject was never mentioned again. Several hours later, Draco found himself in the sitting room of Mesden Manor. Leopold indicated the sofa as he went to the bar to prepare their drinks. Draco slipped into a seat and looked about himself at the elegant décor of the sitting room. “You have an absolutely beautiful home, Leopold. Are you here often enough to enjoy it?”  
  
He was handed a drink as the man sat beside him. “I try to be here as often as I can, but it isn’t nearly often enough. Would you like to spend time here?”  
  
Draco sipped at his drink and moved a fraction closer to Leopold. “I would love to spend time here.”  
  
The aristocrat’s eyes glazed just a bit, and he seemed transfixed as he cupped Draco’s face. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” The blond smiled as fingers moved through his hair and leaned in to press their lips together. Drinks set aside, what was at first soft and innocent quickly turned to passion, and Draco slid into his companion’s lap with a moan. A hand smoothed over his lower back beneath his dress shirt and before he realized it, he was being lifted up and taken into the bedroom, the door shutting firmly behind them of its own accord.  
  
-  
  
Draco lay sprawled across the bed, pleased to feel absolutely boneless. Leopold’s lips were trailing up his stomach, stopping occasionally to focus on a particular spot. Draco suddenly wished all his conquests were as devoted and wondered that he hadn’t made them be. He let out a quiet coo of pleasure as his lover wandered to a particularly sensitive area and squirmed in appreciation.  
  
“You are perfect, flawless. How could anyone deny you?”  
  
“No one has.”  
  
“Then, how in Heaven are you not already taken?”  
  
Draco looked down on him with a soft, sad smile and brushed loose fringe from his forehead. “Haven’t found my soul mate yet, and I’ll never be content without him.”  
  
He received a coy smile in return. “I never would have pinned you for the romantic type.”  
  
The irony of the statement made Draco secretly smile and look up at the ceiling, knowing that it was less romanticism and more necessity, but Leopold needn’t know that. “You’d be surprised.”  
  
“Have you never been in love?”  
  
Draco snorted and looked down, grinning, at him. “No, have you?”  
  
“I’m in love right now.” The grin faded and he instantly stopped releasing pheromones as he had been for the entirety of their encounter. Love did funny things to his lovers, especially to those he knew not to be the One. “Come away with me. We’ll have a lovely weekend at my villa in Valencia. It overlooks the ruins and the view is spectacular.”  
  
Funny things, indeed. This was not a good idea. He would not cancel his visit with Mother on Sunday and lovers rarely allowed him to leave without at least a minimal fight. “I don’t know if that’s a very good idea…”  
  
Leopold instantly went about trying to convince him with strategic kisses and long caresses. Those hands were excellent negotiators. “You simply must. There’s no argument. It will be fantastic. We can sit on the balcony and drink horchata, make love until noon. I’d worship you. How could you say no?”  
  
Well, Spain had been lovely the last time he’d been, and he’d never actually been to Valencia. A few days couldn’t hurt, and he could always leave discretely if need be. And he did dearly love to be worshiped… He let out a long moan and pulled Leopold’s face up for a sensuous kiss that left them both trembling with need. “Only if I may leave on Sunday. I have afternoon tea with my mother that I absolutely cannot miss.”  
  
“As long as you promise not to be gone permanently.” Draco shook his head, too focused on maneuvering his legs around Leopold’s waist to care about lying. Not that he’d mind otherwise. “Lovely, we’ll leave in the morning.”  
  
“Mmm, whatever you like. As long as you’ll fuck me now.” Leopold needed no further encouragement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever read this story on another website (ff.net, my livejournal account, etc), you will perhaps notice that there is a section featuring Seamus Finnigan missing from this chapter. I took out his entire character because I did not feel he offered anything to the story's plot or to Draco's and/or Ron's character development. If there are any objections, let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco visits his mother and learns more about his heritage than he would have ever expected. Later, he discovers that not all of the Ministry rules are meant to be broken. A visit from Potter sets him straight.

They had not left the bed for over a day, and the sun was just reaching noon as Draco decided to venture out. He carefully extracted himself from Leopold’s arms and slid out of bed. Leopold only made the slightest of protests and rolled over. The bay window overlooking Sagunto provided a spectacular view of the ancient ruins, the broken steps glistening from the angle of the sun shining down on them. Leaning his forehead against the window, he let his mind wander into distraction. What was today? Sunday. He needed to leave, otherwise he’d be late in meeting Mother. He glanced back at the bed, covered in silky, white linens and more pillows than were strictly necessary. Leopold looked near falling off the edge, the sheet barely covering him and his nose buried in Draco’s pillow. Could he leave without saying goodbye? Sighing, he turned back to the view. He had had a wonderful time with the aristocrat. He was gentle and loving in his caress, and he always considered Draco above himself, something that Draco absolutely adored in a lover. But despite the wonderful sex and the beautiful scenery, Leopold wasn’t his mate, and the longer he stood at the window, the more insistent became the voice in his head telling him it was time to leave.  
He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the rustle of sheets and was mildly surprised when arms slid around his waist and lips pressed into his shoulder. “I told you that the view was spectacular, didn’t I?”

Draco nodded, not turning away from the window. “I should leave. Mother will be waiting.”

“Must you?”

“I can’t cancel with her; she depends on me. I told you I would only come if I could leave today.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you skipped a week. Everyone gets busy.”

“No, I told her I’d be there, and I’ve yet to cancel our tea since I left home.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Your mother seems a bit clingy if you ask me. You’re a grown man. It isn’t natural to be under your mother’s thumb.”

The voice cried out in indignation, and Draco pulled away in complete agreement with it. “My mother is sick, very sick. I am the only reason she doesn’t waste away into nothing. I’m not going to abandon her, and especially not for a shag.” Too upset at the slight upon his mother to care about hygiene, he wandlessly called his belongings and quickly began to dress.

In a panic, Leopold hurried to right the situation. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean it. Of course you’ve got to see your mother. I was just being selfish. Please don’t leave angry. We can sort this out. Please, love…”

Draco was not interested in listening further. He Apparated to the sound of continued pleading and took a deep breath as he entered the International Portkey Office in Madrid. He hoped to never see Leopold again.

-

Coming to see Mother was the highlight of the week, not because of his mother, though he loved seeing her, but because for the first time in his life the house-elves were excited to see him. His mother, normally docile and vacant, became animated at his entrance into the room, and it delighted them to see her happy. When he was a child, his father had influenced him to be unkind to the house-elves, but now that he was older and out from under his father's thumb, he'd learned to appreciate their loyalty and hard work. Entering the Manor that afternoon brought him three grinning elves all eager to be the first to take his cloak. "Afternoon. How is Mother today?" He suppressed a laugh as all three began to talk at once, but turned to the head elf. "Barnaby?"

The elf rose up proudly at the address, but then his face turned grave. "Mistress is not doing well, Master Draco. Weena is always being at her side, but Mistress would do much better if Master were still being here."

"Yes, well, we cannot bring Father back from the dead, now can we? Have you been adding the potion to her tea as the doctor asked?"

"Yes, Master Draco."

"Good, thank you." He turned to go to the conservatory where he knew his mother would be, but stopped when he saw the elf's ears lower out of the corner of his eye. "What is it?" The elf mumbled something. Irritated, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't quite catch that, you'll have to speak up."

Barnaby’s ears lowered further. "Mistress is not drinking the tea. Barnaby is putting the potion in the tea like Master Draco asks, but Mistress is not drinking it. Barnaby is not knowing what to do, Master Draco. Weena is not being able to make Mistress drink, but Mistress will wither away and die without it."

Sighing, Draco rubbed at the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut. He knew this would happen as he began his search. It was really only a matter of time before she gave up. "Thank you for telling me, Barnaby. We'll have to call the Mediwizard and schedule another consultation. In the meantime, I will try to speak with her." With a calming breath he went to his mother, Weena following behind him.

Sitting alone on the settee, her hair surrounding her ashen face, Narcissa looked small and fragile. Her natural glow was entirely gone and was replaced by a fog of maudlin despair. Like many half and full-blooded veela widowed by war or disease, her only buoy in this world was the weekly visits of her beloved son. As her senses became aware of his presence, she hurried to enfold him in her arms. She kissed his cheeks and his forehead and held him for a little longer than was strictly necessary. He could not help the sad smile that slid onto his face.

"How are you, Mother?" he asked as they sat on the settee together.

"I'm perfectly wonderful darling, now that you've come to see me. How have you been? Have you found the one you've been looking for yet?"

"No, not quite, but I won't give in this easily. He's out there, I know he is." She only smiled and handed him a freshly poured cup of tea. It did not escape his notice that she ignored her own cup, but he was not quite ready to breech the subject yet. "Mother, why did you not tell me that there were forms necessary to send the Ministry? Personal forms."  
"Personal forms…?" She raised a curious brow before a light of recognition sprung to her eyes. "I'd almost forgotten about them, dear. The form changes when you find your mate and settle down. It changes again when you have children, and then once more if your mate… well, if something happens to him."

"But you did have to fill one out before?"

"Yes, but that was quite a long time ago. I came into maturity at about fourteen, and I knew within the first week of that year's schooling that my mate was your father. Most of the… sexual questions were left alone until I was older, and by that time, we were already preparing to settle here."

"You knew that Father was your mate at fourteen?" He raised his eyebrows. His mother had never told him this story before. But then, she hadn't really breached the subject of their veela heritage since he was in his early teens, too busy with concerns of the war and the Dark Lord. By the time the business of war had been eliminated, Lucius was dead, and Narcissa was in no fit state to discuss anything involving veelas or mates or anything of the sort. Her open discussion of the subject now lightened Draco's heart just a little, despite the business of her untouched tea cup.

"Yes, but that does not mean that your father and I were mated then. You have to keep in mind that I was a fourteen-year-old girl and your father was a seventeen-year-old young man, who still hadn't come into his own quite yet. I didn't know how to tell him and have him believe me. With all the girls floating around him vying for his attention, he would have thought I was just after his money. So I waited until my seventh year during the Easter holiday. I'd heard from Mother that Bella had fallen under Lucius' wiles and knew it was time, so Mother arranged an audience, and your father didn't even enter the room before he knew. We were married within three months of my finishing school and had you almost two years later."

"He was attracted to Aunt Bella first?"

"Only because her close proximity to me gave her a hint of my scent. Nothing came of it, though. Bella may have been inclined, but she already knew that Lucius was to be mated to me and, despite her numerous faults, she would not have dishonored herself so much as to cross me."

"But I thought Aunt Bella wasn't a veela."

"She isn't, neither is Andromeda."

"But then, how are you…?" He'd always wondered how his mother had got Veela genes if neither of her parents did and, given his mother's open mood, he thought it was time she enlightened him.

"Have you ever noticed that my sisters and I have very different personalities and appearances?" Draco nodded, brows furrowing in concentration. "Well, there is a very good reason for that. It is not spoken of much, but my father was married three times. Bella's mother was his betrothed, as is tradition for the Pureblood families that are not as lucky as we are to possess other means of obtaining a life partner. I am told that they were married for three years before they conceived Bella. Due to complications, the woman died in childbirth, leaving my father alone with a baby girl. If Bella had been male, he mightn't have re-married. As it was, family tradition required him to produce an heir, and so he married Andromeda's mother only months after his first wife's death. After three years of marriage, two pregnancies, and only one of those producing a child, a girl, Father became frustrated and had the woman killed." She paused, a darker look passing over her eyes as she refilled Draco's teacup, her own still remaining untouched. "Andromeda never forgave him when she found out, and I believe it was her reason for marrying that… that Muggle." A moment of silence passed as both said a prayer of forgiveness to their ancestors for having a Muggle somehow related to them. Then Narcissa shook her head slightly and smiled at her son. "We're getting off topic. After Father had Andromeda's mother killed, he was left with two girls to take care of and still no heir. He hired a nursemaid to care for the children, not trusting the house-elves to do it properly. The woman he chose just happened to be a veela who had lost her mate in an accident. Seeing the advantage for herself, she used her charms to seduce Father, and they were soon married. I was born six months later."

There was another pause in conversation as Draco took in all that he had been told. The only sounds were of the birds twittering about in the rosebushes on the other side of the window glass. Draco watched them chattering as he thought, before turning to his mother, who was studying her hands folded in her lap. "Is that why Aunt Bella went mad in the end? Because her mother died having her?" There was an old wives’ tale among Wizarding families that a child whose mother did not survive his or her entrance into the world was doomed to eventually go mad and Draco had always wondered about his aunt Bella.

"No, she went mad because she fell in with that… that man." A shudder went through her and her voice dripped with venom. Knowing that discussing Voldemort would only upset his mother further than her condition already had, he decided to change the subject.

"Is there anything wrong with your tea, Mother? You've not had one sip. Should I speak with Weena?" The little elf, who had spent the entire conversation standing near the settee watching Narcissa for any sign that she might need assistance, looked frightened at the idea of needing to be spoken with about her mistress' tea.

Narcissa's forehead wrinkled in that way that it used to when she was angry with Lucius for scolding Draco about letting Harry Potter best him in Quidditch. "Yes, tell her I don't want that potion put into it anymore."

"Now, Mother, the doctor said that the potion is necessary. You are ill, and if you do not take the potion it will only get worse."

  
"I don't have a condition. I've lost my mate. There's no helping it with potions or charms. Lucius is not coming back, and I doubt very much that I will ever find another that suits me quite as well as he did."

"The potion will never make everything all right again, but it will help you. I can't stand to watch you waste away into death. Father made terrible choices and aligned himself with the wrong people. Do not let his mistakes deprive you, your son, or your future grandchildren of the privilege of your life."

The look of distaste turned to ice and her fingernails pierced the porcelain skin of her palms. "Do not ever speak of your father in such a manner again. I will not allow you to disrespect his memory by mentioning his unfortunate alliances."

Draco looked down, fiddling with his tea cup. "I apologize, Mother. I should have paid closer mind to what I was saying."  
She sniffed and spread her fingers out across her lap. "Yes, well, perhaps I shall forgive you this once, but see that this incident does not repeat itself." There was a silence that lasted until Weena interrupted with a stuttering request to bring more tea. Draco left an hour later, feeling slightly down-trodden.

-

Draco enjoyed losing himself in a crowd of gorgeous, writhing, young wizards, but could only spare himself the pleasure very occasionally. Though the men at Péché were all toned, tanned, and well-suited for rubbing one's hot body against, the sweating was displeasing and, despite his sex, dancing in public was still slightly dangerous to his health. That did not stop him from losing himself on the dance floor with two or three strong sets of hands roaming his flesh and a decidedly canine body pressed up against his back. He leaned his head back against the young man's shoulder and stretched one hand back to tangle in wild, brown locks. "You aren't all human, are you?" he whispered silkily, allowing his magic to swirl around them.  


The werewolf's lips brushed his ear. "No, but neither are you."

"Do you think the Ministry would fault me for taking in a stray that just happened to follow me home?" Draco knew that MacMillan would kill him for even considering allowing a werewolf into his bed. He also knew that the wolf's counselor would leave him relatively alone. Werewolves were monitored much more strictly than veela, but in regards to sexual activity were left fairly uncensored as long as they maintained proper sterility charms. The Ministry knew that there was no way to stopper the libido of a wolf, especially near the full moon. With the full moon just days away, having such knowledge only further intensified Draco's determination to bed the man clinging to his hips.

There was a feral growl and he was pulled in ever closer to the obvious excitement of his target. "I don't think I bloody care what the Ministry will say. Just tell me where I'm Apparating." After a few whispered words, they were both standing at the door to Draco's loft. The wolf had him naked before they even reached the kitchen and was so impatient that Draco found himself bent over the kitchen counter.

By daybreak they'd managed to find the bed, but several bar stools were overturned, the contents of the coffee table were scattered across the floor, and everything reeked of sex. The werewolf lay sprawled across the bed, only slightly covered by the sheet, his eyes closed. Draco sat with his back leant against the other's bent knee, a manila folder on his lap and a self-inking quill in his hand. There was a self-satisfied smirk on Draco's thoroughly swollen lips. "Name again? Full name this time and none of that nickname rubbish. I can only imagine the Floo if MacMillan reads 'Wolfie' on my next report."

"Bardell Stiggens."

"Exact species?"

"Lycanthropos."

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

Draco's eyes rose to his face in surprise. "Really? I'd thought you older." He shrugged it off in a distracted manner. "What was that lubrication spell you used? It felt brilliant.” The wolf’s eyes opened to smile coyly at him as he reached for his wand and performed the spell in question again. Draco smirked and squirmed in a pleasant manner, but the expression faded as soon as a calloused hand smoothed against his lower back. He turned back to his parchment. There were voices whispering in his head that this felt wrong and they were making him uncomfortable.

Impatient, the wolf pulled at his arm. “Come here. You can finish that later. We should make use of my brilliant spell.”

Blatantly ignoring the warnings that had increased to fervent murmurs, Draco slid into Bardell’s lap, doing his best to focus on his own lust and the tongue now taking possession of his mouth. Rough fingertips trailed down the curve of his spine to toy with the crease of his cheeks. A single finger entered.

The murmurs quickly turned to shouted alarms that made Draco pull sharply from his grasp and scramble to the end of the bed, eyes narrowed. “Perhaps another time. I’m to send this in the morning, and as it is already nearly light, I think perhaps it would be better for you to leave.”

Stiggens only smirked, eyes glittering with vicious amusement. “Silly veela, you can’t get rid of me that quickly. We have unfinished business. I never perform that spell without putting it to good use.”

Draco remained concrete in his refusal, quickly taking hold of his wand, which had been tossed to the end of the bed sometime between reaching it and the end of their sexual escapades. “You are decidedly not my mate and I would appreciate your leaving my home immediately. I have faced Greyback and survived and do not fear anything that you could do.”

Stiggens moved nonchalantly onto his knees and crawled slowly to the blond ,who was inwardly shaking, though his wand remained steady. “You underestimate me. Greyback was my sire. He raised me as a part of his pack.” He allowed a hand to caress the interior of Draco’s thigh as he advanced, eyes never straying from his face.

The hairs on the back of Draco’s neck stood on end at the touch and he sneered, gripping his wand tighter. As the pad of a thumb brushed his hip bone, his mind began to shriek and he did the only thing he could think of. “Stupefy!” The werewolf froze exactly in place. Heart thumping nearly out of his chest, Draco quickly moved out from under him and to the other side of the room, snatching a pillow up to cover himself. “Tinker?” His voice came out small and almost shaking, memories of matted gray hair, yellow, jagged fingernails, and the smell of blood flashing before his eyes. The tiny elf appeared before him, looking meek, but not frightened of his master. “Tinker, please remove that… that thing from this flat.” The elf looked from his master to the frozen figure on the bed and back again.

“Where is Master wanting Tinker to take him, sir?”

Still slightly shaken and angry with himself for being so, he turned away and began to dress. “I don’t care, just remove him. Somewhere far away from here. And put a memory charm on him. Make him think that he left on his own. Twenty minutes should be sufficient.” Tinker nodded and soon disappeared with the wolf, not to be seen again until needed. Draco stopped in his dressing, turning to look blankly at the bed for several minutes. The silence in the room was almost deafening. With a shake of his head, he went into the bathroom and drew his own bath. Soon he was submerged in steaming, hot water, not to be seen again for several hours.

-

**Form:** 83352739  
 **Name:** Draco Malfoy  
 **Registry Number:** 625369  
 **Date:** 03 oct 2001  
 **Age:** 21  
 **Mate:** N/A  
 **Current Location:** London, England  
 **Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 25  
 **Name(s) of Partner(s): Rafer Weigel (1), Leopold Mesden III (4), Bardell Stiggens (20)  
 **Age(s)/Sex(es)of Partner(s):** 25M, 47M, 19M  
 **Species of Partner(s):** Wizard, Wizard, Werewolf (And I'd like to see you do something about it.)  
 **Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Rafer was rather dull. Nothing bad, as you know that I do not have bad sexual experiences, but not in any way very creative. Leopold was marvelous. He treated me like some form of king or god, swept me away to this villa in Valencia that was absolutely breath-taking, and worshiped my body for an entire weekend. Stiggens was a fantastic fuck. We barely even made it to the bed. He was an animal, literally, and he had this delightful little lubrication spell that made my bum feel so highly sensitive that I could hardly stand it. Of course, he is most definitely not my mate and was rather… offended when I told him to leave, thus ruining my good time. Bastard. May we have him castrated?  
 **Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes  
 **If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its effects:** Stiggens used a lubrication spell called _madidus_ that was fantastic and is highly recommended.  
 **Did any encounter result in pregnancy:**** **Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes **If so, how and why:** I tried to use it to get Stiggens to leave, but alas, he was impervious to my wiles.  
 **Comments:** I have two queries: 1. Is it natural for my body to scream at me when someone that is not my mate touches me in a sexual manner? Even after I have already spent the night shagging with them? 2. Why do werewolves not respond to my magic?

-  
Tired of watching the bartender, Draco turned his head to the left and immediately regretted the action as he was accosted by the site of messy locks and a surly disposition. "Potter."

"Malfoy."

"To what do I owe this... pleasure?" His eyes roamed the disheveled appearance of the Wizarding World’s Savior and wondered vaguely if he’d have been allowed into the club on anything other than hero worship. Potter slid onto the stool next to him without an invitation.

"I heard you've been making some new friends lately. Some werewolves."

"It was only ever the one and I only slept with him to aggravate MacMillan. Did he send you here to have a 'talk' with me?"

"No, my boss did."

"And why is it any of the Aurors' concern?"

"Because as you very well know, it's illegal for you to sleep with any creature that is not a wizard, Muggle, or another veela. You're being put on probation until further notice."

"Don't worry, I've no intention of ever even considering sleeping with another werewolf again. He was much too forceful."

Concern clouded Potter's features and he leaned into Draco's side, lowering his voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Draco shook his head, sighing to himself. A bloke doesn’t personally kill the Headmaster once and he’s getting concerned puppy eyes every time they meet from then on. "No, but he threatened me when I told him to leave. It was stupid and dangerous on my part."

Potter laid a hand on Draco's shoulder and massaged it a little. "I'm glad he didn't hurt you, even though you were being a prat and should have known better."

Draco nodded his thanks, but cocked an eyebrow when the hand didn't move. "Potter, you aren't my mate. You can stop touching me now."

Potter gave him a bemused look before moving the hand to his own knee with a smile. "Sorry, Ron says I've become overly affectionate lately. Something about needing to get laid."

"Weasley managed a four-syllable word?" Potter only glared in response and ordered a cup of tea. They sat in silence for a long time afterward.

"Will you be more careful with your bed partners from now on?"

"Yes, sir." Potter rolled his eyes at the formal address while Draco finished his drink. "Does this probation period prohibit me from leaving the country?"

"No, why? Are you planning to?"

"I think I may go to America for a little while. Maybe I'm not finding who I'm looking for here because he isn't in Britain."

“Where would you go, then? I don’t know anything about America.”

“I don’t, either. My travel agent can settle that for me, though. Is it necessary to tell you or MacMillan where I go beforehand?” He turned to Potter, face showing a mixture of worry and annoyance that made Potter smile.

“Not unless you have something worked out with Ernie that I don’t know about. The Aurors are only concerned with who you sleep with, not where you go to do it. Avoid other species and we won’t have to speak again. Unless of course you need me on unofficial business. You know I’m always available to help.” And there was the bloody sympathy again. It almost made him wish he’d killed the sodding headmaster just to spare himself Potter's looks.

He waved Potter off with a wrinkle of his nose. “Yes, yes, of course. Always have to go about saving people, don’t you? I’m fine, Potter. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Good.”

-  
Ernest MacMillan  
Ministry of Magic  
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures  
Level 4

Dear Mr. Malfoy:

In response to your inquiries it becomes necessary for me to once more inform you of the reasons that it is illegal for a veela to breed with anyone outside of their own and the Wizarding species. Veela are forbidden from fornicating with other species because if the breeding is successful, a new (and probably highly dangerous) creature will be created. A werewolf with the ability to seduce victims in the same manner as a veela would be an uncontrollable menace to society. Also not mentioned previously, but apparently pertinent in view of my conversation with Auror Potter, werewolves are extremely dangerous when aroused and have been known to react violently when rejected by a lover, especially when near or in the act of fornication. Though you failed to do so, Auror Potter has informed me of the circumstances surrounding your interaction with a Bardell Stiggens. The werewolf in question will be properly prosecuted, pending your consent and cooperation. Please be more careful when choosing a bed mate. I have already informed you that werewolves are not eligible to mate with veela. Please do not make another attempt or I will be forced to have you taken into custody. And no, you will not be able to get out of the situation with a few well-placed donations, so please refrain from attempting.

As to the questions you posed in your comments, it is entirely natural for your body to reject the touch of someone known to not be your mate. The situation is more than likely aggravated when that person is a savage werewolf that has the capability of seriously injuring or even killing you. I can not stress enough the gravity of you attempting ever again to bed a werewolf. Veela/werewolf relations are rare, but in a good portion of the reported cases, the veela has been either critically injured or killed upon refusal to continue sexual activity. Werewolves are immune to your hormones because they are ineligible to mate with you, although your hormones do not leave them unaffected. The magic that you give off arouses them to a state of frenzy when it is directed towards them and can often make them homicidal if they are not satisfied. For the last time, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SEDUCE A WEREWOLF EVER AGAIN.

I am only trying to keep you safe, Malfoy, as is Auror Potter. It is our jobs to protect you, even if you do not think you need it. Please take heed of our advice. I do not want to see the word ‘werewolf’ in a report of yours ever again.

Respectfully,

Ernest MacMillan  
Breeding Counselor  
Ministry of Magic  
E.M.


End file.
